Just wing it
by KIHDLDF
Summary: Tony ends up in university dance classes with a 1940s throwback as a teacher. He doesn't know why he bothers returning to his lessons, no way did he find Swinging fun or sexy…even when Steve moved his hips like that. It was all in the name of dance, he told himself. AU Stony!


Pairing – Eventual Steve/Tony and a few other pairings smattered here and there from the Marvel universe.

Tony is 19 here; I'm using the English schooling system because the American system is a mystery to me.

Enjoy…hopefully.

Anthony Edward Stark was definitely not fazed by this. He was going to walk into the towering building that stood before him, almost rivaling his father's own ( that would soon be his), he was going to stride straight through the decorated doorway and announce his arrival with pride!

"Sir, you will have to leave the car at one point. Your father has arranged for your guide to be prepared for you at quarter to one."

"All in good time. Speaking of which, what _is_ the time? I'm pretty sure we're early enough to take another trip around the block," Tony trailed off, muttering to himself.

"Most definitely not, Sir. It is now ten minutes to one, I insist you begin your journey into the university," Jarvis, Tony's butler (or man-nanny, as Tony affectionately called him) stepped out of the car he had chauffeured for the day and opened to door for his charge.

A hiss escaped from between his teeth as the sunlight barraged through now his protective layer of tinted glass had been ripped away from him.

"Out you come now, Sir, I believe you have to delayed your entrance enough for it to be considered fashionably late," an undertone of amusement was in that comment.

_Better get it over with, the sooner the better, _with all the skills he had acquired from having his entire life in the public eye, Tony slid out of the backseat of his Bentley, slid his sunglasses on and slid a hand through his hair in one smooth movement. He waited a few seconds for camera flashes to begin and was slightly disappointed that not one camera man was in sight, it would have given him another distraction. Dubiously glancing side to side he took in the mostly deserted street with a frown that clearly showed his superiority to the surrounding area, seeing how beneath him this whole situation was gave the youngest Stark a little boost and he put on his best face of nonchalance before waving goodbye to his butler.

This would be nothing.

"Listen to me, woman! I've told you about, oh, let's see, eleven times! I am authorized to be here! Check your outdated system again!"

_So much for nothing, _he had been forced into a battle with the receptionist who claimed he had no permission to be on the property. His father could buy this old university if he so wished or better yet, hire someone to get rid of the pathetic excuse for a receptionist.

"Tony? Tony _Stark?_ Is that you?" A woman's voice cut through his bratty musings.

Recognition at last, he almost felt the urge to cry tears of joy as he turned to face where the voice had come from. Surprisingly and quite shockingly, he recognized the person who had called him out.

"Tash? Why are you here now?" This was what he'd been hoping to avoid.

He remembered the fiery Russian woman, alright; they'd even had a little fling back when he was in college. He could see she had only gotten better in their years apart, her once long hair was cut into a wavy bob yet she still had the same figure, if only slightly taller. He was glad to see that she had not abandoned her preference for wearing skin tight clothing. Tony usually had a one hit policy with women but he could make exceptions. He was a rebel like that.

The two had gone through high school and college together before the Stark family had relocated to another city but he still kept in touch with her and Clint (another of his friends) even if it was quite sporadic as all of them were now in university save for him.

"I'm your guide for the day even if you are late," she sounded awfully smug.

"I'm just here for as tour of the premises you know, my dad's interested in investing some money in the school and well, he thought that-"

"Tony. Don't bullshit. The whole academy knows what the infamous Anthony Stark is here for," Natasha strode over to him with a smile that was fighting to hold back her laughter.

"We talk on a regular basis via our telecommunication devices. You just wanted to be the first to laugh at me," No, he was not sulking.

As Tony was lead past the receptionist, who was still eyeing him suspiciously, Natasha broke her composure for a few moments and began chuckling.

"Spot on. I am partly here to humiliate you but it won't last long. All lessons begin in about 5 minutes so I'll have to reschedule your guided tour until lunch, you can catch up with Clint then as well. How long are you here for?"

His teeth clenched together for a brief moment, "A year…that's the length of the course."

"You sound so embittered; did Daddy force you into this?" She was really trying not to laugh any more at her friend.

"If _I_ don't go on this course and graduate from it, _I_ am null and void in the Stark industries contract that states once my dad reaches the age of an old war veteran, the company fall into my…more than capable hands. You honestly think I'd do this crap of my own volition?"

Brown eyes grew wide as he quickly rectified his exclamation from seconds ago, reassuring the woman who he knew could probably kick his arse, that her chosen field was not really 'crap' but a bunch of pleasant adjectives.

Tony huffed at the unfairness of it all while appreciatively eyeing a few nude sculptures that were tastefully places along the hall that they were drifting down.

"It's only a year, all of us have to teach extra-curricular classes for a year if we want to get our masters degree so you won't be the only inexperienced person in here."

"You're doing it too?"

The Russian woman hummed in response, "I teach private classes to a little girl, it's really quite cute."

_A little girl…I'm a fully grown man! Is the money really worth this? When did I become so materialistic? _Tony's Vans squeaked painfully loud on linoleum as they stepped of the carpeted floors they had just been on and through a doorway into a new department of the vast school.

The pair entered a short but wide, more modern corridor which ended in a fire exit and had a large door on the left wall. Unless Natasha has suddenly decided to get him out of his situation, he assumed they had arrived at his own personal (hopefully) air conditioned hell for the next few hours. He listened impatiently as his friend gave him a short walkthrough of what not to do to his new teacher if he ever wanted to get his inheritance because the Academy had strict rules and regulations where behavior was concerned and Tony,_ please_ don't try to hit on him, he's really _nice_, she repeated at least four times.

"Hey, I may lower my standards on occasion but I'm not on the level of hitting on some old codger who trembles around a dance studio trying to teach ballet. Mr. Rogers? How old fashioned."

He frowned at the weird look Natasha gave him before he recognized it has her Tony-you-silly-boy expression. She usually adopted when she found him in his old dorm room trying to coax an emotional girl out at three in the morning.

"What?" he demanded rather snappishly.

"Okay, ballet is _my_ major, not everybody else's here because this is a performing arts academy where there are many different types of arts, you philistine."

A look of elation passed over Tony's face for a split second, ignoring the insult, before his mind quickly processed the negative side to the statement he'd just heard.

_Just breathe and bear it, Stark. What could be worse than ballet?_

I actually have no idea how you get a masters degree in dance so I've just made this all up.

I plan to rewrite this whole chapter then continue with more chapters if there is any interest in it, so please review. If enough interest is shown I'll write a next chapter with Steve and an explanation as to what dafuq just happened.

Thank you for reading!


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